Project: Redfield
by Eleve Osirian
Summary: Claire Redfield: The next test subject of the Umbrella corporation. Wesker already has his own plans for her, one that may reunite him with his oldest of foes: Chris. Undergoing major renovations!
1. Chapter 1

_At the beginning of the 21st century, the Umbrella Corporation had become the largest commercial entity in the United States. Nine out of every ten homes contain its products. Its political and financial influence is felt everywhere. In public, it is the world's leading supplier of computer technology, medical products, and healthcare. Its massive profits are generated by military technology, genetic experimentation and viral weaponry. It was because of Umbrella that the world was thrown into chaos._

_In an underground facility:_

Wesker cursed before heaving a thick medical book that lay on the office desk before him across the room, leaving a hole in the otherwise plain white wall. _They hadn't found him._ He flexed the muscles in his arm, clenching his teeth, and grabbed the back the chair, pulling it towards him. Sitting in it, he leaned back, trying to control his anger. He fixed his concentration on the damaged wallboard, beginning to find satisfaction in his anger.

He was getting stronger; the virus that flowed continuously through his veins allowed him access to power he never thought he'd possess. It gotten to the point where his fiery, cat-like eyes startled him whenever he looked into a mirror, but he had since grown use to it. In fact, he enjoyed the menacing look that he carried, and loved the reaction of the other scientists when he walked into a room. He smiled thinking about destroying the room with his fists before he heard a buzz.

Leaving his thoughts, he spoke up. "What is it?" he asked harshly, seeing a young man garbed in white enter the room.

"Sir, Dr. Isaac would like to see you downstairs," the man said, looking away from Wesker to the damaged wall. "Might I also remind you that these are state of the art facilities that have cost Umbrella millions of dollars in profits and that throwing things about in a careless manner will not be tolerated."

Wesker glared at the man. _What an ignorant fool._ He couldn't help but laugh at young man's arrogance, as he stood up from the leather chair. Reaching up, he took his sunglasses off, wiping them with the edge of his black suit. "What is your name?" he asked, a sly look covering his face as he looked up at the man.

"Wha-what are you?" he asked, the shock apparent on his face.

Wesker could sense the man's pulse rising, his heart pumping out blood to his organs in a desperate attempt to keep him from losing consciousness. Crossing the room, he was no more than a foot away from the man when he spoke again. "You would do well to remember your place, because if it weren't for you still standing in my office, you would be a dead man."

Wesker left the man scared out of his wits in the doorway of the office, dumbstruck with fear.

Taking the elevator to sector C-4, he walked down a plain hallway before reaching a room filled with stasis tanks. Although most were empty, some contained sample data, which would be used when new variations of the T virus were discovered; for now, they would sit and lay dormant until became of more use.

Seeing a host of scientists working frantically on various tasks, he walked over to where Isaac stood. Not knowing what he was watching through the glass windows, he joined him. Seeing the huge, white empty room, he looked over at him.

"Patience, Wesker, patience. I haven't brought you down here for nothing. They are going to get her as we speak," Isaac assured.

"Who?" Wesker questioned.

"You'll see," he answered.

After a few minutes had passed, two armed security men entered the room, following a scientist who walked before a prisoner. Upon entering the room, the scientist chained the blindfolded her to a metal pole located in the center of the room, and then was escorted from the room by the armed men. The door was then secured.

Wesker studied the girl for a few moments, wondering why she was so familiar, before Isaac spoke up. "I can't believe she is still alive after the raid."

_Redfield. Claire mother fucking Redfield. _

Twisting his neck slightly, Wesker's blood began to boil with obvious disdain, as he watched her regain consciousness. She managed to remove her blindfold and look around the white room, her eyes coming to rest on the small doors opposite her. Seeing the fear in her eyes as she realized she was no longer armed, he looked down at the computer screen out front of him.

Her stats were becoming erratic and it was obvious that she was frightened. Relishing the feeling, Wesker began typing into the command module before stopping himself. He took a moment to look at her stats, before realizing they were way above normal for a human. By all rights she should've been dead.

"What was she injected with?" he asked, closing the command box.

"They injected her with a vile of T Virus. For the first few hours, she was unaffected by it, so she was given a higher dosage; we are just now beginning to see the effects."

_A few hours? And no one told me? _Wesker asked himself, before swearing he would kill somebody.

Looking back up, he realized that her body was rocking back and forth with convulsions, a typical prelude of things to come. Within a few minutes, her cells would begin breaking down, and she would physically die, only to be reanimated by the virus a few moments later. It was then they would use her as a test subject.

The only problem was, after a few moments, the convulsions stopped and she stiffened against the pole. Watching closely, Wesker came to realize that she had broken the chain that kept her bound to the pole. Smiling slightly, he entered a command again, this time finishing it.

A door immediately opened on the other side of the room, releasing a mutated dog, which had also felt the effects of the virus. Most of the skin had deteriorated, leaving a sinewy flesh that almost revolted him. _Almost._

As it raced across the room towards Claire, he watched in excitement as it lunged hungrily for her throat, before Claire rolled off to the side. Wesker listened as he heard the jaws of the animal clamp shut on open air before its legs were reunited with the ground. It turned quickly and began its new attack as Claire ran towards the opposite side of the room, determined to kill its meal.

Readying the chain in her hands, she waited until the Doberman was within reach and she lashed out at it, using the chain to pummel it towards the wall where it hit hard, creating a snapping sound. It fell lifeless to the ground, the blood from its crushed ribcage spilling onto the floor in a small puddle.

_Jesus Christ._

Wesker watched the entire event as if he were dreaming. It hadn't fully sunk it that Claire killed the dog so easily until he heard the door unlock and two security guards entered with guns pointed at her chest. He blinked, ready to watch every move she made. _This could be interesting._

She surrendered, though, causing him to curse. " I want all reports done on her by morning," he demanded, walking out of the room.

"LIE DOWN NOW!" one of the men yelled at her.

Claire couldn't quite grasp the situation around her; she could hardly remember the last few moments, let alone the last hours. Who knows how long she had been here….

Obliging them, she lay down, careful not to come into contact with the blood that was splattered across the floor.

"Stop." She heard a smooth voice demand. Looking up, she saw a tall, black suited man enter the room. "You're assistance here is no longer required," he announced to the men, who hesitantly opened the door and waited outside the room.

She watched as the blonde haired man took off his sunglasses and glanced around the room. "That was quite impressive."

At a loss for words, she stood up slowly, hoping that she did not offend the man. By the color of his eyes and the presence she felt from him, she knew not to overstep her boundaries. "Wh-who are you?" she asked, daring to look into his sinister eyes.

Ignoring her question, he walked around the room to where the corpse of the animal lay. He examined it, before turning back to her.

"Do you remember anything?"

"No."

Eyeing her, he knew she wasn't trying to deceive him. He figured that her mind had been purged so that she could be controlled, which fit perfectly into the scheme forming in his head; He could use Claire to his advantage. In the brief battle she had been faced with, she had destroyed her opposition almost momentarily. Wesker guessed that her strength would grow in time, and she could become Umbrella's next project.

Chuckling slightly he left the room and nodded to the men waiting outside to take care of her. _This was going to be interesting._


	2. Chapter 2

...tick.

_Clock. _The word finally came to Claire as she sat on her haunches in the prison-like cell. The room was nothing but a blank canvas washed with a brilliant white, except the black clock tacked high on the wall before her. She wondered what its purpose was. She could not tell time here, and even if she had the ability, it would do her no good, as the only exit to her room was the locked door behind her.

Rubbing her eyes, she returned to her bed, the metal frame squeaking violently as she lay down. _Who am I?_ She wondered. Claire had come to remember simple things, words she had learned when she was young, but they returned to her painstakingly slow, after many hours of grueling thought. There were a few things she could remember such as a motorcycle, and an accident, but her identity slipped from her grasp each time.

Suddenly the clock stopped, the room becoming unbearably silent. Swallowing hard, she stood up, trying to reach to reach it, but found herself unable to. Looking around, the only object was her pallet, bolted firmly to the walls. _No matter._

Grabbing it, she wrenched it from its secure resting place, bending the fastenings as she pushed it under the broken timepiece. Standing on its flimsy mattress, she grabbed the clock, finding that it too, held fast.

Twisting her neck slightly in anger, she could feel something within her veins begin to boil, a strange alien feeling that told her to destroy it. "_Obliterate it," it whispered._

Clenching her fist, she gave in to the urge, slamming it hard as its hard plastic frame shattered into a thousand pieces across the cold tile floor. She didn't notice the blood now trickling down from her knuckles, staining her bed sheets. Instead, she focused on the mysterious camera that now looked her in the eye. "_You're being watched,_" her mind warned. _"Get rid of it!"_

* * *

Static noise filled the laboratory as the camera viewing Claire Redfield went black. Numerous scientists scurried about to get it back online, as Wesker leaned back. _Stupid fools._ "She found the camera," he finally spoke, a harsh tone hinted in his voice. "Perhaps you should be worried about the lock on her door."

Nodding furiously, the two scientists left the room in a hurry, leaving the monitors completely unattended. A smirk snaked its way across Wesker's face as he leaned forward and propelled himself toward them. Sitting down, he quickly entered a number of security passwords, a command prompt demanding an ID number. _948301-AW._

"Access granted," a woman's voice spoke, the computer screen now displaying numerous charts. He clicked through several until finding Claire's. Her reports had definitely been taken, each one highlighted in red indicating sharp increases in motor and comprehension skills. _Christ._

Wesker memorized the page, quickly finding another chart on blood cell count, her levels far above normal for an average human being. Also, a note had been attached. _High levels of T cell strands have been found. Specimen has evolved to include the virus within its blood cells, thus completing the first stage. _

Printing out a few pages, Wesker grabbed them quickly before logging out. Turning on his headset, he spoke clearly, "Ada."

A few moments passed. "Yes?"

"It has begun. If Umbrella seeks to use Claire for their own advantages, they are clearly mistaken. If she continues to progress forward, it is no secret that Umbrella will seek to have her clean up their little mess, leaving their hands untied," he told her, searching the room for his black trenchcoat.

"Sounds like Umbrella. I have found additional information pertaining to the G virus, left by Birkin. Looks like they planned on using it," Ada told him, her voice crackling slightly under the shaky connection.

"Have you retrieved the data?" he asked coolly.

"It's been destroyed by the team Umbrella sent in. There's nothing left."

Clenching his jaw, he felt like punching something. Or someone. "Well, it is important that you remember our goal- our GOAL is to RETRIEVE the sample. By any means necessary," he scolded her, waiting to hear her pathetic response.

"I'll see what I can do. What do you plan on doing with the girl?" she asked huffily.

"I plan to take her to the extraction point we had discussed earlier. Inform Parasol of my arrival. And whatever you do, don't be late," he said, cutting off the connection. _This should be interesting._

* * *

The continued to flicker, its electrical wiring nearly severed by the rage Claire had thrown. Lying on her back, she thought nothing other than how much she despised the people who chained her in this room like an animal, with no means of escaping. Screaming, she was answered by the clicking of the door as it opened smoothly.

"You know, if you wish use your strength, why not just kill the scientists that come in here to medicate you?" the man said slowly, standing over her.

"I should kill you, you prick!" she uttered madly, unable to move.

"Do you know what they gave you?" he asked, pulling a piece of broken glass from her arm. She winced only slightly.

"How would I know? You're the scientist!" she growled mockingly.

"Most likely a sedative," he said more to himself than Claire.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. It should wear off within the next few minutes judging by your awareness," he said, admiring the blood that was spattered on the floor.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, seeing the grin upon his face.

"I can help you escape from here. Isn't that what you wish?" he asked calmly.

"Yes. But you are one of the bastards who put me here. You're no different from them!" she said, feeling movement return to her limbs. Quietly, as he turned his back, she grabbed for a piece of the shattered light. Ever so slowly, she stood up, lunging for his back. "_Too slow,"_ her mind said as she did so.

Turning so quickly that she hardly had time to comprehend his reaction, she was instantly slammed against a wall, the shard of glass within her hand held to her own neck.

"Let me help you understand something," Wesker started, adoring the fear in her eyes as she saw his true self. "I am stronger than you. It is not wise to attack me, the person who can single handedly save you from your prison. If I wished it, you would no longer exist," he said, pressing the glass into her skin. "Perhaps the only way for you to understand is for me to hurt you," he spoke through gritted teeth as a bead of blood appeared.

"I'm not afraid of dying," she rebuked, a smile playing on her own face. "Do it," she dared him. Although she couldn't explain it, she knew that he wouldn't kill her. She was somehow _important_ to him.

"That is a start," he said, releasing her. "You're coming with me," he said, fixing his sunglasses that had become crooked in the encounter. "Now."

Trembling slightly, she leaned against the wall in a sudden adrenaline rush, which blurred her vision considerably. Overcoming its sickness, she stumbled towards him, finally feeling the pain in her sliced arm. He led the way, twisting through corridors and down flights of stairs until they reached another locked door similar to the one in her room.

"Security code required," the same computerized voice said through a hidden speaker. Typing into the pin pad, the door unbolted. Inside, Claire found many holding tanks, strange creatures and forms held within them as they walked briskly to the opposite door. Pausing slightly, Wesker turned and went to one of the terminals, retracting a small metal card from its back before rejoining her.

Opening this door required an ID scan, but Wesker had managed to disable it as they passed through it, going up the stairwell towards the helipad, where a chopper was waiting. Crossing across the asphalt landing, Wesker checked his holster for the M9 Beretta pistol he carried. It was still there. "Take off, here are the coordinates," he demanded, handing a piece of paper to the pilot.

"Under what authorization?" the other guard in the helicopter asked.

"Classified. Level 6 authorization," Wesker answered smoothly.

"Sorry sir," the man said, joining the pilot in the cockpit.

Wesker seated himself, finding a laptop lying in a black briefcase before him. Smiling, he opened the screen, inserting the card he had taken from the labs into the USB port. Opening a command module, he typed in a series of numbers before hitting enter, beginning a data transfer. If everything went as planned, Ada would receive the files, and he wouldn't need to carry around the flash drive. He already knew Umbrella had tabs on them.

Once finished, he threw it out the window into the green forest below them, laughing at his success. Everything had lined up according to plan. "_What shall I do with you, Redfield?"_ he thought of asking Claire in his mind, mixed emotions crossing his face. He wanted to kill her, just for being the sibling of Chris. But he had a far better plan of action, one that would work even better as a leverage on his old nemesis.

Claire didn't seem interested in his preoccupation and merely stared out the window, oblivious of what was in store for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Important Author note: I've decided to keep this story. I would just like more concrit on how to make it better. I'll try to update soon.**

Regarding the sudden variance in altitude, Claire angled her eyes away from the towering evergreen forest and to the cockpit. Her memory had yet to regain a foothold in her conscience, a frustration beyond measure. _"How can I even exist if I don't know who or what I am anymore?" _she wondered sadly; she would give most anything to conjure up a even a brief moment of her previous life.

Her eyes wandered to the man sitting beside her, the person who had saved her from those horrid people, from an existence far worse than this. _"Perhaps you should trust him."_ But something within crawled at the sight of his stern face and his sinister voice. He just seemed....odd, a characteristic she couldn't place a name to.

"We've entered restricted airspace," the pilot observed, tapping a few buttons on the control panel. "Do you have a security code?"

"AW19372," Wesker responded dryly, barely concerned. To him, the pilot's words were meaningless- restricted airspace or not, he wouldn't be told where he could and could not be. His entire life had consisted of obeying rules, following orders, bowing down to his superiors; it was his turn to create the laws.

"Where are we heading?" Claire managed, finding enough courage to speak.

"Sector C812" he replied, resting his feet leisurely on the crate before him. This girl was proving to get on his nerves; she was too much like Chris.

"Sir, the code was denied," the pilot explained through his headset.

_Bastards. _Umbrella had been quick in realizing he had stolen their precious subject, a much unusual coincidence. Wesker relished the idea of the company loathing him; it was the entire reason why he had left its crumbling structure for another. However, it was in his scheme to let Umbrella fall; if it did, he would be able to resurrect it to its former glory as its primary leader. "Continue on," he demanded. _Umbrella would not win this game._

Realizing that he would yield no further information, Claire looked back out the aperture of the Helicopter, assaulted with a sudden barrage of flashbacks. _Screaming, fire, sirens. _Closing her eyes, she cradled her head. _S.T.A.R.S. Chris. _"I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled. The sudden onslaught made no sense to her, but she stored them away nonetheless to contemplate later; they had to indicate her returning cognizance.

Rising from his seat, Wesker found another metallic briefcase, much like that of his laptop. A phantom of a smile covered his face as he observed her. "Here," he said, throwing it onto her lap.

"What's this?" she said, covering her mouth.

"Medicine." Returning to his comfortable seat, he wondered how long it would take for her to become frustrated. When he had been infected, the virus had made it physically impossible to avoid sudden emotions, but the power gained from such events had made him much stronger, as it would Claire.

"_I'll show you medicine,"_she thought, agitated. "I said I am sick," she reminded through gritted teeth. "Do not make me ask again." Wesker didn't respond. Perhaps he had ignored her or had no solution. Either way, Claire couldn't help the boiling anger rising to a nearly intolerable level. The metal case seemed quite light, and she felt it over for some sort of latch. "How do you open it?"

Still ignoring her, she couldn't stifle the voice in the back of her mind telling her to attack, to reprimand him for not obeying. "I'm sick of being polite goddamn it!" she yelled finally, heaving the case across the open expanse. Hitting the back of the co-pilot's seat, it cracked open with a thud.

"Well done," Wesker congratulated. "However, upon better inspection, you would have found a simple release mechanism on the side," he noted firmly. _Stupid girl. She doesn't hold a desirable intelligence... but my how her physical capabilities have improved. _Her anger pleased him, a trait suitable enough for what he needed her for.

Rushing for the case, she opened its battered side. _Syringe._ Pulling the needle from its housing, she peered at its liquid content before another fit of rage controlled her; she jammed the needle into her thigh, quivering at its beautiful pain. Her skin became clammy, the very life within her being pulled away as it coursed through her veins. "_It's over now, Claire," t_he voice spoke clearly as the chopper jolted.

Wesker stepped over her and entered the cockpit. _"Just give up."_

The sudden whirlwind of the spinning aircraft threw her against its metal frame. "I'm losing altitude," she heard a frantic voice. "We're going down."

Even as she heard the men swearing loudly, it did not matter that she might die; she remembered her name and that was enough to save her the horror of death without a conscience. As the first propeller sliced into the treetops, she sighed with relief as the black void of death creapt over her eyes and she knew no more.

* * *

"It is 5:30. Time to wake up," the alarm clock's monotone voice blared, causing him to stir beneath the thin sheets. "It is-"

"Enough," Chris begged, hitting the snooze. He felt a jab of pain in his side as he rolled onto the Beretta holstered at his hip. Cursing, he pulled it from his side. He studied it for a few moments, his eyes landing on the same mark it always did- the S.T.A.R.S. emblem.

Since the incident at the mansion, the team had dissolved into a few stray members who sought refuge in new towns where Umbrella's agents would not find them. Their ambitions were in vain, realizing that after the City had been completely decimated, Umbrella had been hailed as a hero, a verdict Chris would never agree with. "If only they knew," he whispered, the last moments of his excursion in the Arklay woods still vivid in his mind. Wiping his tired eyes, he quickly dressed. Entering the kitchen, he was surprised to find Jill making a pot of coffee.

"I thought you'd be here," she said, leaning against the counter; a faint smile worked at her mouth beholding his messy hair. "Still looking for Claire?"

Nodding, Chris found an old chair. "She has to be alive, Jill. She's a strong-minded individual."

Jill nodded, taking a swig. "I don't doubt she is, based on the one time I met her."

Chris shook his head. "I wasn't here. She had no way to contact me even if she wanted to..."

Setting the cup aside, Jill crossed her arms. "It's not your fault, Chris. We weren't even here when the shit really hit the fan," she pointed out. She hated Chris when he became irrational in his thoughts. Sure Umbrella had thoroughly screwed with his personal life, but acting like this would solve nothing. "Just admit that you are not to blame."

Sighing, Chris had to agree; blaming himself would not help them find his sister. "Where do we start searching?" he then asked, hoping Jill had more information than he.

Studying his face, she cleared her throat. "An investigation on Irons has delivered some impressive finds," she replied, giving him several folders of documents pertaining to involvement with Umbrella.

"What does this prove?" he asked finally; Irons had been a backstabber, but he was dead now.

"It makes perfect sense Chris," Jill retorted. "He and Wesker knew of Umbrella's plans and being the mayor, he had access to everyone's records, including Claire's."

Cursing, Chris struck the table; everything had begun to fan out- Umbrella taking Claire would be an excellent leverage against him. "So Irons did this?" he inquired irritably.

She shook her head. "I think Wesker was behind the entire scheme; it seems too conveniant that he died in the mansion, don't you agree?"

He knew the truth in her words, for he had contemplated the possibility himself; what he couldn't work out was how he managed to escape before the explosives detonated. _"Nothing is predictable with Umbrella and you know it,"_ his mind scolded. "When I find that lying son of a-"

A faint rumble broke his train of thought; it couldn't have been a tremor because the house hadn't shook. It had happened too far away to understand its source. "What do you think _that_ was?"

"Nothing good," Jill shrugged. "It was quite loud; sounded like it came from the woods."

Snickering, Chris stood. The forest was the last place he wished to visit. "Well, let's get this over with; no point in tarrying..."

Agreeing, she slung the pack onto her shoulder as they left the warm house to face the bitter reality of a new day, oblivious of the threat they were about to encounter.

_to be continued....._

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**So let's see: Wesker being evil as always? check. Chris getting pissed at Wesker/Umbrella? Check. You reviewing? ah...I guess we'll have to find out! =p **


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